


Young Gods

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alphabet, Alternate Universe, Angel Devil, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, I like this one, It's a oneshot collection okay, M/M, Rimming, just read it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:12:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4956310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are thousands and thousands of alternate universes that exist -- they love each other in every single one.</p><p>(Or, a Larry alphabet AU where Louis and Harry bring more than just a denotation to words)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Basically, this is an alphabet AU of alternate/parallel universes of Harry and Louis showcasing their love. Some word stories might be a few thousand words long and others just a handful but i hope you enjoy still! i personally think the length difference of each one keeps it interesting x reviews are always appreciated!
> 
> I'd do my best to do multiple words for each letter of the alphabet and each chapter might have 4 to 8 letters at a time. Enjoy! x

* * *

**_Antithesis_**

* * *

 He was watching the radiant moonlight casting shadows on the devil’s face. He couldn’t stop himself--wouldn’t even _dare_ \--as he sees the shades highlighting the fineries: sharp cheekbones, long eyelashes and a playful smirk.

“What are you doing here, angel?” The devil rasps, cerulean eyes trained on the moon.

“I am watching the most beautiful light,” says the angel calmly, eyes never leaving the red tinged face in front of him.

“Are you sure that’s a wise idea? This is no place for someone like you,” the demon whispers, voice almost reluctant, as if it was taking a great deal of effort for the words to escape his mouth. (As if it was hard to push away the angel beside him)

“I belong here just as much as you do,” the angel says with a kind smile, not minding the fact that the cerulean eyes were not looking at him. His wings flutter as the demon’s mouth quirks up to an even wider smile, definitely more mischievous than the angel’s, but a smile nonetheless.

“But I don’t belong here at all, don’t I?” The devil smirks and the angel doesn’t have a heart, no.  He certainly doesn’t need one as he wasn’t alive, nor would he ever be dead. Yet, if he ever did have one thumping in his chest, he was sure that in that moment, as the devil’s face finally turns towards him, it would have been beating incessantly, erratically.

“You seem to have forgotten that you told me that wherever I was was the only place you belonged,” the angel says, blinking as the tinkling laughter of the devil meets his ears. He feels the warmth (always, always so warm) of the body beside his, the thin tail of the magnificent creature grazing the tips of his folded wings.

“I said that to you eternities ago, my love, and, if I remember correctly,” the devil pauses as he delicately rests his forehead on top of the angel’s, dark cerulean meeting bright emerald, everything good meeting everything bad. “I told you that I would gladly forget _everything_ and _anything_ except the feeling that thrums through me whenever I am with you.”

The angel’s fingers find the tinged skin of the devil’s cheeks, caressing it as if it were a fragile thing even though the creature was anything but. “And that feeling is?” He questions, relishing the atmospheric peace that settles around them as his fingertips graze the devil’s face.

The said devil laughs again and the sound reverberates around the mountaintop. There was a war down below, thousands and thousands of feet down, the sound of men massacring other men still heard through both of their nonhuman ears. Yet, as of the moment, the angel’s are only trained on the seemingly divine echo.

“How can I explain it, my love?” The devil says, eyes shining with something so pure, so unadulterated, so unlike everything the demon stands for. “I feel like God himself when you are with me.”

The angel’s smile brightens as he finally cups the devil’s cheek, placing an innocent yet so placating and beautiful kiss on the mouth pouring poetry into his whole being. “I have missed you so much, Louis.”

“Three thousand years, Harry. I haven’t seen you in three thousand years,” Louis says, voice laced with pain.

The angel merely kisses his love’s lips again and cradles the body in his arms. He feels the entire ache present in those thousands of years melt away completely as his white glow intertwines with the dark aura of the devil.

“Don’t worry, my love. We’re here now.”

 

* * *

**_Anchorage/Bakery_ **

* * *

 

Louis has had an awful day.

He was exhausted, just bone-deeply tired after a whole day of filming. His new movie was going along marvelously and he himself hates those celebrities that seem to do nothing but complain about their work, true. Yet, when movie after movie after movie goes along spectacularly well with no resting period in between, he couldn’t help but wish that this new bound-to-be cinematic brilliance (or so his director says) would, ultimately, flop.

He just really wanted to sleep.

But because he was an A-list celebrity who Hollywood proclaims had no time for trivial things such as, _gasp_ , sleep, he instead opts to find a different source of energy to get him through the rest of the night.

He was wielding his car around a few street corners, driving purposefully slow as to be late for a photo-shoot (just because he can), when he spots a quaint bakery. Its windows were open and as he peers through them from inside his car, he notices that it seemed like there were no customers lounging about.

 _Perfect_ , he thinks, _no way in hell am I in the mood to do autographs_.

As he dutifully parks, leaves and locks his Porsche, he feels the vibrations of his phone inside his pocket. Louis snatches it and, with a quick glance at the caller id, mentally groans before accepting the call.

“Hi, Liam,” he says as jovially as his voice could muster, brain already preparing itself for the lecture he was bound to receive.

“Mate,” was all he heard from his beloved (although sometimes admittedly annoying) personal assistant before Louis then rushes to explain the predicament he was currently in.

“Look, I was just hungry and I saw a bakery,” he says as he moves towards the said establishment’s door. “I’ll be there in, like, thirty-forty minutes tops.”

“The photo-shoot was supposed to start thirty minutes ago, Louis,” Liam groans from the other end just as Louis enters the bakery and the welcoming chimes placed conveniently on the door resonates throughout the small shop. “And besides,” his assistant continues, “You could’ve just asked me to get you food. And we do have some here in the studio, you know.”

Louis waves a nonchalant hand absentmindedly, forgetting the fact that Liam couldn't see his gestures. “Yeah well too late, Liam. I’m already here so see you there! Bye!” He rushes, not waiting for the other man’s reply before he ends the call.

He moves towards the display of baked goods, mouth already tingling as he imagines how good the pastries inside the glass display would taste on his tongue. He chooses to buy a few big, chocolate éclairs for himself, mentally noting to also throw in a few boxes of other goodies to appease Liam and the other crew, before walking the few steps to the counter.

That was the only moment he realizes that there was no one present in the shop but himself. He looks around, doing a complete 360” turn before he grunts and concludes that he is, in fact, alone.

Louis sees the bell that sits atop the counter then, a sign that says ‘ring for assistance :)’ taped to it’s body and, without fail, he purposefully presses it in one obnoxious _smack_. He waits for about eight seconds and when he gets no reply, he begins ringing the bell incessantly diva like, just because, as life turns out, he has become one completely.

When that proves fruitless after a few short seconds, he huffs and turns to leave. Just then, his stomach grumbles loudly, as if reminding him of the fact that he has not taken anything in from the time he woke up to that very moment. He huffs again, and making up his mind, goes behind the counter.

He was walking towards the sliding doors of the glass display, thinking of just leaving a wad of cash beside the register before tripping on something and dramatically (he was an actor, for Christ’s sake, everything was dramatic in his life) falling face first to the ground. He huffs for about the umpteenth time that day when another groaning sound emanates from behind him. Louis quickly scrambles to a proper sitting position and gasps as he realizes that it wasn’t so much as a something that he tripped on but rather, a _someone_.

“Wha-,” a low voice comes from under the counter and Louis startles, too busy looking at the gangly, crossed, out-of-place pair of legs in front of him. It was a testament to the fact that he was so very tired that his mind didn’t immediately realize that legs connect to a body and a body belonged to a person.

“Uhh, hello?” Louis says, voicing the greeting into a question.

There was a silence that followed his statement for a few short lapses in time when suddenly he hears a deep, yet strangely melodic voice answer him back. “Were you gonna steal?”

Louis blinks at this, squinting at the direction where the voice came from. The counter had a flimsy pastel pink cloth that covered the whole of it, the excess fabric hanging of its edges. Because of this, the person that the voice belonged to remained obscured from Louis’ vision.

“Uhm… no, I wasn’t,” Louis says slowly, “I was actually ringing the bell and, uh, no one was around?” He said, statement turning into a question again, unsure of what else to say.

“Oh,” the voice (or man, Louis should really stop referring to it as just a voice) drawls followed by a light chuckle. “Sorry about that,” the man says as Louis sees long, thin fingers pushing the cloth that hid the man from view. “I was just taking a nap.” 

The man, after the light washes his face, is then suddenly very visibly to Louis. He was sure that time stops at that very moment as he sees quite possibly the most beautiful face ever known to man smiling at him. Curly hair, grass green eyes and puffy pink lips meet him and he ogles. He swears, _time_? Doesn’t exist.

“…and it was a bit of a slow day,” the man finishes and Louis shakes himself, literally actually shakes himself to realize that he hadn’t caught what the man had said, too busy looking (admiring, obsessing, _whatever_ ) at his face.

“Oh,” Louis breathed before shaking himself again (humiliating, honestly) and smiling. “I wish I could take a nap,” he sighs dazedly, and he quite literally wants to bang his head on the glass display after that.

 _What the hell am I saying_ , he thinks as he feels his cheeks redden. He was about to apologize for being such a tit when he hears the man reply.

“Well... why don’t you?” Curly simply states, head tilting at the side, motioning towards the counter where he was previously slumbering.

 Louis quirks his eyebrows but then shrugs and beams.

 ~*~

Needless to say, when Liam finally finds Louis a few hours later via the iPhone tracker, he didn’t expect to see the star sleeping under a bakery countertop, head on the shoulder of an unknown man, a peaceful smile resting on his face. 

 

* * *

**_Cavity_ **

* * *

 He feels the wet, sticky slide of a tongue tracing his back and he shivers and moans. He was crouched low, the red, hand printed cheeks of his ass facing up in the air. His fluffy bunny ears were falling off of his curly hair and he can already feel the skin on his wrists and ankles starting to chafe from the leather that bounds them to the bed and to each other.

In all honestly, it really wasn’t the most comfortable position. Still, he whines in bliss anyway as he feels the small pieces of presumable candy corn being placed neatly on the column of his spine.

He feels one, three, eight light drops of candy on his back and just as the ninth one is placed, he isn’t granted the luxury of preparation before a wet, lube slicked finger probes at his hole and an even wetter mouth tongues the topmost candy, just below his nape.

He moans again as the mouth slowly goes further down and bites the skin of his back, chewing all the while on the candy that meets the tongue. The finger that was light and teasing only moments before became two and was pumping to a steady rhythm now, and he feels dislodged, hot and cold at the same time. He feels too little and too much all at once, he just wants to finish, wants to ask if he could, but he knows, no matter how much he wants it, that it’s not his place.

The mouth trailing to an even slower pace on his back was driving him crazy; he knows that a line of bruises would meet him tomorrow, is so sure of it but, for the love of him, he can’t seem to care. He actually wants it, wants to be marked and owned. He wants for everyone, for the boys and their whole team to know why the invite of a Halloween party was declined. He wants people to see the bruises on his back, wrists, and ankles to show how he was wrecked that night, how he felt so taken care of so –

“Feeling good, baby?” Louis coos behind him, the man’s fingers still drawing in and out of Harry and he can’t bring himself to answer as he feels the fingertips graze at his sensitive bundle of nerves. He never wants it to stop doing that, never wants the feeling to end.

All of a sudden, though, it just does.

Harry whimpers, legs twitching as he feels Louis’ fingers cease their previous movements. He doesn’t know why it stopped and he knows he shouldn’t but he can’t help himself when he pushes his ass back, moving so Louis’ fingers brushes his prostate again.

He moans another time at the sensation for a second and gasps in another as a resounding smack echoes around the room. The burning heat that only had begun to recede on his ass cheeks full on intensified then as Louis hand met the soft flesh again and again.

“What was that, Harry?” Louis whispers in his ears after a few smacks, voice low and ruff.

Harry whimpers at this and answers as best as he can. “I-I’m sorry, _daddy_ ,” he says, voice resolutely small as he feels more than sees the intense look Louis is surely giving him. "I couldn't help it."

“You almost made the candy corn fall off, Harry,” the other man sighs and Harry feels a wave of disappointment course through his body, knowing he failed his daddy.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again and a hand slowly turns his head. He meets Louis’ kind eyes as the other man then nuzzles his cheek slowly.

“Be good for me now, okay?” Louis says sweetly and Harry thanks the heavens for Louis’ forgiving mood. He nods vigorously and the other man beams before turning Harry’s head again so that he was facing down once more.

It takes a few seconds for anything to happen, seconds in which Harry has to clamp his mouth shut as to not say anything stupid and further delay his bliss, when the mouth that was biting the skin of his back only moments before continued its actions.

Although he loved the feeling of Louis’ mouth anywhere on his body, loved the feeling of the sticky candy corn being pushed around his back, he as waiting for when Louis’ fingers would then make a reappearance. He was anticipating it, waiting patiently as the last candy corn on the bottom of his spine, where the swell of his ass only begins to rise, is bitten, licked, chewed and only then swallowed.

He was sure that after that was finished, he would then feel what he craved for the most. He was waiting on bated breath for fingers that he didn’t realize it for a few seconds after when a slick tongue swiped on his puckered hole.

He moaned loudly at that, body convulsing as Louis ate him out, going for it so eagerly that Harry felt like he could come any second. Louis then inserted a finger, and then two, pumping steadily as his tongue licked around Harry’s hole.

He could feel his orgasm coming, the steady bliss spreading through his nerves. He could feel himself about to fall over the edge and the one thing that pushed him off, the thing that made him gasp and shake so hard was the way Louis teeth chewed on his puckered hole, just around his fingers. It was like the way he bit the skin and the candy on Harry’s back, only a bit gentler yet definitely more determined.

He screamed Louis name as he came, the words ‘ _daddy_ ’ and ‘ _love_ ’ blending together, becoming unrecognizable through his sighs.

~*~

After, as they lay side by side spent and still sticky from saliva and candy mixed together, Harry couldn’t help but still giggle as Louis pecked his lips sweetly.

“That would forever taste better than _any_ kind of candy.”

 

* * *

**_Demolition_ **

* * *

Louis didn’t know what hurt more; the thought that he had held something so beautiful and magnificent once and lost it or the fact that he was the reason for it’s destruction.

As he stared at Harry’s retreating back, slowly walking away from him, he thought, maybe, a bottle of sleeping pills and some vodka would do the trick.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of D to E! x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh some are a bit angsty but they're all part of the show. Comments and kudos are much appreciated! Btw, if you want to suggest a word, hit me up!! x

* * *

**_Decrypt_ **

* * *

 

In all the 21 years of his life, he has met an inordinate amount of people. Short, bulky, old, cruel and everything in between, he has seen face to face. To say that they were all different would be a fact but the truth was, to him, they were all the same.

“You’re quirky, aren’t you?” Asked some of them.

“That’s a bit… unusual,” others would point out.

“Fuckin’ _freak_ ,” exclaimed the meanest ones.

They would say it in different ways, with a vast variety of words, but at the end of the day, they all meant one thing: _you are not one of us._

Everyone was the same.

Except -- _him_.

With _his_ knowing looks and shy smiles. With _his_ feather light touches and kind eyes. With _his_ laugh that, although unsaid, is understandably aimed to laugh _with_ him and not _at_ him.

He was the rare one who simply understood.

And when he finally slipped the ring into _his_ finger, Harry couldn’t help but cry.

“You always did get me,” he said, salty tears streaming from his eyes as he looked at the simple silver band now wrapped around Louis’ finger, “and now I’ve finally got you.”

 

* * *

  ** _Delirium_**

* * *

 

He was sitting outside, the sun was shining and the breeze cold on his skin. He felt content and happy and when Harry sat down beside him, he felt complete.

He was laughing, an obnoxious sitcom playing on their flat screen television. Harry’s hands were roaming his sides, whispering a joke he had come up with on his ear. Although he would deny it when asked later on, he isn’t snorting because of whatever was happening on the tv.

He was at Niall’s, lounging on the couch as the other boys stared at him. Even Zayn was there, eyes shy and guilty yet determined all the same.

“We’re worried about you, mate,” Niall said, his brows scrunched, obviously bothered.

“What about, Nialler? I’m fine!” He said with a smile, his voice light but evident confusion laced with it.

“You’re not...” Liam trailed off, meeting Zayn and Niall’s eyes, before placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’re not taking this well,” Liam finished.

His own brows scrunched then as he shrugged off Liam’s hand. “Taking what well?” He said squinting his eyes as the other boys once again exchanged glances.

There was a short, heavy silence after that. Niall was blinking at him, obvious surprise etched on his face. Liam’s was blank although his eyes were trained solely on Louis. Surprisingly, it was Zayn who broke the stillness.

“It’s been three months, Louis,” the skinny boy said, voice so calm, as if he was approaching a wild beast. “You have to accept that he’s gone.”

~*~

When he returned home that night, he screamed and screamed for Harry to come, but no one else was home. 

* * *

**_Disloyal_ **

* * *

Whenever he closed his eyes, he could still see the surprise etched on Harry’s face when Louis caught him fucking another man.

 

* * *

  ** _Emblazon_**

* * *

 

It still hurt, of course it did. Even after hundreds, maybe even thousands of times that it’s happened, Harry’s sure that it would forever continue to hurt.

But the thing is, it wasn’t usual. He at least had that simple fact to comfort him, to make the irrational anger that thrums through him become slightly more reasonable.

He always ends up screaming at Louis, shouting about how it isn’t fair and why couldn’t they just be normal, for once?

It would always hurt, seeing the person you love, the person that loves you _back_ , pretend to be happy with someone else.

And the thing is, he _knows_. He knows that it’s all pretend, that it’s not real, fake, bogus, phony and all that. But sometimes, when it’s only him against the hundreds of thousands of people who assume to know their lives so well, it gets harder to handle.

“I’m sorry,” he would whisper to Louis later on, after he has calmed down and let it all out. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” the other man would answer, gripping his wrists tight, anchoring himself in Harry’s embrace. “I’m sorry too.”

* * *

  ** _Easel_**

* * *

The sides of his hands are black from grazing the charcoal on the canvas too much. It’s been hours of drawing, his back already aches and his head is starting to hurt. Judging by the way Louis’ starting to fidget on the bed, he knows the other boy is tired too.

“How long?” Louis drawls, unmoving from the position he was in but still managing to roll his eyes.

“Give me thirty more minutes,” he responds, giving Louis a warning look as the boy tries and fails to subtly flex his feet.

“You said that thirty minutes ago!” Louis accuses and Harry laughs, shushing the older boy all the while.

“Well, I’m saying it again now,” he says. “And besides, you were the one who wanted to be drawn like one of my French girls,” Harry states, grinning at a blushing Louis.

“I didn’t realize it would take this long,” the other boy mumbles.

In all honesty, the drawing has been done for about twenty, verging on thirty minutes now.

He just really liked the view.

* * *

_**Extol** _

* * *

 

He wasn’t a writer; he had no sense of correct phrasing, no intricate familiarity with words, no innate skill of stringing up letters to form words, and words to form sentences that could touch hearts.

He wasn’t an artist as well; he couldn’t paint the color of Harry’s eyes, couldn’t conjure up the proper movement of hands for one stroke of the pen, couldn’t visualize and picture what is needed to make a masterpiece.

He wasn’t good at any of these and he was sure he would never be.

But he had his ways.

He praised the color of Harry’s eyes by memorizing them, the little specks of gold flowing with the bright emerald. He admired the waves of Harry’s hair by running his own hands through them, feeling the softness on his fingertips. He applauded the soft pads of Harry’s lips, tainting them red with his own bites, tasting love and happiness as he does so. He hailed Harry’s body by pressing hungry kisses on every inch of skin he could reach, sending a little prayer of thanks to whatever deity there is that exists for giving him this.

So, no, he wasn’t a writer nor was he an artist. He couldn’t make poems and stories and isn’t capable of paintings and drawings. 

But, hell, does he have his ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a little Titanic AU there sorry HAHA (I regret nothing)


End file.
